Dreamcast
Today was the day Shawn Xiao got promoted, and the weather was sunny. He woke up early.
Breakfast was bacon and toast—the bacon fried to perfection, the toast soft and tender—and his mood was naturally good.
But what Shawn didn't know was that in just two months, he would bid farewell to all these beautiful things forever.
What I can tell you in advance, though, is that in the moment he closed his eyes, he wasn't in a bad mood at all.
1
The company Shawn worked for was known as LD Technologies, which had entered the public eye in recent years thanks to its Dreamcast business.
Dreamcast was a form of live streaming, similar to how years ago people would broadcast themselves eating, singing, or chatting. But by now, simply watching the mundane lives of others could no longer hold anyone's interest.
Dreamcast had become the breakthrough.
On the Dreamcast platform, people broadcast their dreams around the clock.
These dreams were far more compelling and authentic than the artificial fare of ordinary streams.
Dreamers with rich imaginations were especially popular with audiences.
Because viewers could experience entirely different worlds in their streams—adventures on the Pacific, hot air balloon rides through the cosmos, explorations inside the blood vessels of a shark—and even though dreams often lacked logic, perhaps it was precisely that lack of logic that drew so many viewers.
Not only that, Dreamcast also satisfied people's voyeuristic impulses, because dreams reflect the dreamer's inner world, unfiltered and raw.
You could watch someone who feared cats, only to find their dreams filled with menacing feral cats that scared them witless—more entertaining than any comedy.
You could witness someone endlessly pursued by ghosts, their heart pounding, only to be devoured in the end—experiencing fear in its purest form.
And there were those whose dreams unleashed their darkest impulses, committing unspeakable acts...
Of course, footage that was excessively graphic or sexual was censored by LD Technologies' review team to ensure legal compliance.
More and more people flocked to Dreamcast, showering their favorite dreamers with gold coins. LD Technologies' market valuation soared—it was a rising star in the tech world.
Gradually, more people wanted to broadcast their own dreams.
But LD had not opened up broadcasting access to the public. They claimed that due to technical limitations, they could only grant broadcasting rights to select users.
This careful curation ensured the platform remained manageable and free from chaos.
People looked forward to each new dreamer who passed LD's assessment and appeared on the Dreamcast platform.
After all, LD consistently delivered fresh and surprising experiences with every new dreamer they introduced.
LD's organic fans online took pride in declaring, "If LD made it, it must be quality."
Shawn had once been an ordinary viewer of Dreamcast too. He'd downloaded the app out of curiosity, checking in occasionally. Some dreamers' content sparked ideas for his own art.
Until one day, he saw himself in a Dreamcast stream.
At first, he thought he was seeing things. He sat up, squinted at his phone screen for a long time, only to confirm that the person in the broadcast was indeed him.
Him at seventeen.
And the dreamer was his former high school desk-mate, Tina Ding.
Shawn dropped his paintbrush and sat bolt upright before his easel, watching as the Tina in the dream gazed secretly at the back of his sleeping form at their shared desk. The theme of this dream was crystal clear—unrequited love.
On screen, viewers watching the stream were flooding the comments, sighing over the poignancy and beauty of a secret crush. Some urged her to confess, even though they knew the dreamer couldn't see their encouragement.
Meanwhile, those moved by the memory of their own unrequited loves—or simply captivated by Tina's beauty—were tossing gold coins like confetti.
Naturally, some sniped at Shawn, sprawled across his desk like a pig: The streamer has feelings for someone like this? Is she blind?
But Shawn could entirely tune out such hostility.
Because goosebumps had erupted across his skin, and a bittersweet ache was flooding his chest.
—So the person I loved was also in love with me.
Shawn remembered a night during their second year of high school. Tina had caught a cold and was dozing at her desk. He'd risked getting written up by sneaking out of school to buy cold medicine, which he'd slipped into his bag. But he could never muster the courage to hand it to her.
He was afraid she'd discover his feelings for her.
After all, back then he really was as fat as a pig.
And Tina, even then, was breathtakingly beautiful—on an entirely different plane from him.
So he'd never imagined that a celestial being could ever fall for a pig on the ground.
That was pure fantasy. And so he'd buried his feelings deeper and deeper, letting them sink beneath graduation, employment, and promotion.
But Tina's quietly restrained love, persisting for ten years, had been revealed to him through Dreamcast.
And so he'd finally found the courage to excavate his own feeble love from its deep grave.